


Revenant

by thespiderbaby



Category: The Fast Show
Genre: (at first), Canon Gay Character, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mental Illness, One-Sided Relationship, Suicide, bereavement, takes place over a long period of time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 19:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10748019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespiderbaby/pseuds/thespiderbaby
Summary: The Mayhew estate falls into disrepair and begins to crumble, as, when Ralph takes his own life, he does not have an heir. However, he still roams the building, in the form of a ghost, and Ted must help to put his soul at rest.





	1. Chapter 1

In a small village, gossip gets around quickly. It's not long before everybody's talking about something. And of course, no private boundaries are respected.  
"Terrible news about Mr Mayhew, isn't it? Of course, not surprising at all, he may have kept to himself, but we all knew he wasn't...well, he simply wasn't right in the head, was he? In more ways than one."  
"Remember when young Lord Mayhew got himself sent to hospital? And his parents told everyone he had the 'flu? Well, that's bullshit. I knew people who worked on the estate at that time, and they said young Ralph had completely snapped, his brain was all messed up. He was dangerous, threatening the staff with a knife, they said! He ended up making an attempt on his own life some years ago, so, you know...not trying to be rude here but, that he'd do it again was inevitable!"  
"Ah, but is it certain he offed himself? It couldn't be murder, could it? Now I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea, but...his gardener. D'you reckon he'd had enough of being followed around by that poof all day and decided to put an end to it?"  
"Don't be ridiculous, the signs were there from the beginning. Ralph was always very quiet, never spoke to anyone. He'd stay cooped up in his house for days at a time. Obviously very depressed- probably some other stuff going on too."

To Ted, all of these gossiping voices became one entity. He'd stopped answering the door to people; at first they'd been sympathetic, as they knew Ted was Ralph's only friend, but they soon became nosy, asking invasive questions. Someone even asked for the details of how exactly Ted had found Ralph's body. He'd ended up slamming the door in that person's face. Ted felt sick; it was still all so clear in his mind and there was nothing he could do to get rid of the image of Ralph's limp body dangling from the ceiling. He rubbed his eyes and went to sit at the kitchen table. His wife, Esther sat beside him.  
"I should've stayed with him yesterday. When I think back to the last time I spoke to him, he seemed very anxious, kept changing the subject like he couldn't stay focused on one thing. Why didn't I ask him what was wrong? Maybe I could've prevented it." Ted became aware of the fact he was crying again and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.   
"I don't think you could've done, Teddy. I don't think anyone could. He was too ill, he wouldn't've listened-"  
"But...I should've showed I cared about him, been more open with my feelings and let him known that I was there for him. He confided in me a while ago. Told me about how he felt, the feelings of worthlessness, his intense emotions that he couldn't control, his violent, impulsive thoughts...I didn't fully understand, but I should've done more to help him..." Ted tailed off.  
"Don't blame yourself, Ted. I know it's difficult and this has come as a shock to all of us but..." Esther's voice wobbled. "we should try to power through. You were so strong and supportive when old Mr Mayhew died, and when the poor boy was left alone after his mother passed away as well."  
"Mmm," mumbled Ted.  
"The legal people are coming in the morning, you know, Mr Birkin, Mr Mayhew's solicitor? They'll want to discuss the will, as he's got no living relatives and..."  
Ted wasn't listening. The word 'will' had suddenly brought him back to reality. All of this was happening. Ralph was gone. Ted brought his hand up to his face to wipe away his tears, but find there were none; he seemed to have run out. He got to his feet shakily.  
"Sorry, I need a moment outside," Ted muttered.

The lower field. Ted had spent hours down here with Ralph, and as Ted stood there, nearly sinking in the soil, he looked out towards the horizon, half expecting to see Ralph jogging towards him. Ted looked away, towards the ground, and tried to reconstruct the last conversation he'd had with Ralph.

"What are you doing, Ted?"  
"Just planting these flowers, sir."  
"I see. They shall look most vibrant when they bloom. I look forward to seeing them this time next year!"

Tears pricked Ted's eyes again. After that, Ralph had started talking about something else entirely; Ted struggled to remember what exactly, but he noted that Ralph had been trying to establish eye contact with him more than usual; at the time, Ted had thought that maybe Ralph was gaining confidence, that he was finally about to confess to those feelings that they both knew about but never mentioned. And Ted wanted so desperately to let Ralph know that he felt the same. But he couldn't. Next time, he told himself. Tomorrow I will tell Ralph how I feel. But now there would be no next time. And Ralph had died thinking that no one in the world loved him.

As Ted walked back to his cottage, he looked up at the manor house, noticing that the lights were on in some of the rooms. Strange, considering the ambulance had left some hours ago. As Ted got closer, he realised there was somebody moving about in front of the window. An oddly familiar figure, wearing a tweed jacket and yellow waistcoat. 

But it couldn't be who he thought it was. Ted had seen Ralph's lifeless body with his own two eyes. And yet this same pair of eyes was telling him something completely different.

No. Impossible. Ralph was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

His head was filled with fog; he couldn't see clearly. And yet, when he looked down, he saw himself; yes, he was crumpled in a heap on the floor, but that was unmistakably his body. It wasn't there any more, though. Time had passed, although it has hardly felt like it. The body had been put in a bag and taken away. He had shouted at the men who had done it, in a rare show of temper; how dare they enter his room without his permission? Didn't they know who he was? It was futile though, they didn't seem to care, just walked away. Left him alone. Lonely again. They'd taken the body, the shell and left behind the soul, or whatever it was that was left of him. How cruel; couldn't they take him along as well and put an end to his misery?

Did this mean he was trapped here? For how long? He would rot, forget who he was. Would he be trapped in this state forever, not dead, but not living, either? There was too much to think about, but he must not forget himself.   
"My name is Ralph," he said aloud, hearing the name echo. He so rarely heard his name out loud, despite his many attempts to get Ted to use his name, he never did.

Ted. Ralph's heart ached as he though of him. How he'd heard Ted knocking frantically at the door, shouting. How he'd burst into the room, and, upon seeing his employer's lifeless body, had collapsed, weeping. The only kind of emotion he'd seen from Ted; was this what it would take for him to acknowledge him?   
If that were the case, Ralph thought, I would have killed myself a long time ago. As he'd watched Ted outpour his grief over the body, the ghostly entity of Ralph had stayed hidden from sight. Part of him had wanted to reveal himself, to let Ted know of his presence, to comfort him. And to let Ted know that he loved him, and how Ralph yearned for his feelings to be reciprocated. 

But what was the point of feeling like this for someone who pushed away every attempt to become closer? It was better to stay hidden in the shadows and let the memory of the Mayhew family, along with the house, crumble. It didn't matter to Ralph how long he was trapped there; he had already experienced one lifetime of loneliness. He was prepared for the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little drawing of Ralph as a ghost https://dougalmcguires.tumblr.com/post/159805424154/a-little-scribble-of-ghost-ralph-from-an-au-im


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still just mainly scene setting, I'll try and get onto some actual ghost action soon........  
> Oh yeah I tried to upload this through my phone so if the formatting's a bit dodgy that's why

Ralph's solicitor, Mr Birkin, was a nice enough man, if not a little difficult to understand. Most of the time, he'd mumble, completely unintelligible, but every so often, this would be interrupted by random phrases. If it were not for the circumstances, Ted would have found this rather entertaining, but, in truth, he was finding it very difficult to pay attention. He hoped Esther understood what was going on.  
"So you see, the will," Rowley rambled. "Entirely a case of... Well, you know...enormous debts...no living relatives...no heir. And that reminds me... ah, I remember, once...massive eyebrows...and tied the most remarkable knots in his shoelaces...ha ha! Anyway...marvellous birds flying around freely in his house...sheep too...not flying...well, perhaps they were...I don't know...but I'm afraid I was very, very drunk."  
Ted had had enough of listening to Mr Birkin's nonsense. It seemed to be a mockery; this was a time for sensitivity and clarity about the situation. Ted decided that he would contact someone else from the firm when Mr Birkin had gone. Ted fiddled with the edge of his jumper, pulling on a loose thread, as he tried to block out what the solicitor was saying, and a numbness settled over him as he remembered how he had lent this jumper to Ralph once. That must've been the only time he'd seen Ralph wearing anything casual. The memories were getting to Ted again and he fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief.

-

Mr Birkin had left some time ago, but Ted was still sitting in his armchair, staring out of the window. He'd put the television on, for some background noise, anything to take his mind off of Ralph, but the first thing he had seen was Bob Fleming's programme, and he was instantly reminded of the occasion he'd watched it with Ralph. They'd laughed at the presenter's persistent cough and made jokes about how much he resembled Ralph. It seemed like everything in Ted's life was connected to Ralph.

That wouldn't be the case for very long, though. Esther had spent a long time on the phone to the solicitor, clarifying everything she'd been told by Mr Birkin. She'd learnt that her and Ted would have to move out of their little cottage; the house would be deserted as Ralph had no heir and, because, the cottage was located on the grounds, Esther and Ted could no longer live there. In a way, Ted was relieved; he wasn't sure if he would be able to cope, living in a place that constantly reminded him how Ralph had gone. Moving away would give him a chance to reflect on the many years he had spent working for the Mayhew family; although Ralph had been a kind and fair employer, his parents had been the complete opposite. Ted had seen the way they treated their son and he felt ill knowing that Ralph would be buried alongside them, when he had wanted to cut off every tie with them.

-

Just for something to do, just to get out of the house, Ted thought about going down to the pub later on. He felt guilty; he felt like he should be devoting all his time to grieving, but the atmosphere in his cottage was suffocating him. Esther had run out of things to say, run out of memories of Ralph to share, and had fallen silent, occasionally looking at Ted as she busied herself by looking for jobs to do around the house.  
Leaving this place will do her good, thought Ted. We'll move to be near her sister, Margaret, and it'll be a fresh start. Of course, we'll still remember Mr Mayhew, but we won't have this grief hanging over us, with constant reminders of his life wherever we look.

Obviously, Esther knew how Ralph felt about Ted. It wasn't like it was a secret; everyone in the village knew, and Ted often found himself the subject of teasing from his friends. He had always asserted that he wasn't 'like that' and possibly had convinced himself to believe that as well. Although, deep down, though Ted never attempted to acknowledge them, the feelings were there. Perhaps that was why the grief had affected him so badly, left him unable to do anything except sit in his armchair and stare into thin air. Ralph had been his employer though, a "Bourgeoisie bastard" as one of Ted's friends had said. Ted rubbed his eyes. Of course, Ralph was just a friend to him, though. How could he be anything more when Ted still loved his wife so dearly? And what was the point in getting so worked up about it when Ralph was gone? Ted decided to abandon his idea of going to the pub. He decided he would go and start packing instead; he didn't think he could face his friends right now. Instead, he sunk lower into his armchair and blocked out the world.


	4. Chapter 4

"Don't you want to go up to the house one last time, before we go? Walton-on-the-Naze is some way away, and...well, it's unlikely we'll come back."  
The last few weeks had been taken up completely by packing, and sorting through old things. Ted had taken bag after bag of his old clothes to the charity shop; this move would indeed be a fresh start. And at last, the day had come. But, as much as Ted wanted to leave the manor behind, he worried about what would happen when he had gone. Would anyone bother to keep the grounds tidy? Truth be told, Ted had sometimes found it unmanageable, being the only person tending to the large expanse of the grounds, not to mention tackling the constant problems with the drainage in the lower field. But he had always kept the place looking tidy. Now everything would just grow wild. 

"Teddy?" Esther's voice brought him back to the present.  
"What?"  
"I was just asking if you wanted to go up to the house, to see it one last time?"  
"No," replied Ted. He had never been one to talk a lot, but now, monosyllabic sentences had become his speciality.

In fact, Ted had already been to the house earlier. He'd been to the pub beforehand, to say his goodbyes to his friends, and slipped away early. He hadn't stayed there for long- he felt out of place among the grand furniture, despite it being as shabby as it was- but he'd been in the house long enough to take a small paperweight decorated with the Mayhew family crest, a memento of Ted's time working for them.

Ted could still feel it in his pocket now. It was weighing him down, grounding him, ensuring he didn't show how distressed he really was. It was such an impersonal object, not really reminiscent of Ralph in any specific way. Indeed, it must've sat on Ralph's father's desk, and probably his father before that, and yet, Ted felt it was of such importance that he had to take it. It would only gather dust if it stayed on Ralph's desk, anyway. Either that, or it would just be thrown away, along with everything else on Ralph's desk. However, although the physical mementos of Ralph may disappear, the memories people had of him would remain forever.

Another item on Ralph's desk that caught Ted's attention was his diary. Ted hadn't had enough time to have a proper look, and anyway, it would have felt wrong for Ted to intrude on Ralph's private writings. It was easy to guess what Ralph had written about him. He knew that Ralph loved him- everyone did. But had he loved Ralph? It made his heart ache to think about all the conversations they had had, and everything that had been left unsaid. Ted almost wept when he remembered how Ralph had defended him against one of his aristocratic friends. How different Ralph had been from his parents! He was gentle and kind to everyone he met; although his parents had taken away every dash of his self-esteem, he was determined to treat everyone how he wished to be treated. Even if he never got that kindness back. Ted felt a pang of guilt, something that had become all too familiar to him. He knew it wasn't his fault, but thoughts of what might have happened if he had taken time to act a little warmer towards Ralph haunted his every waking moment. It was becoming an obsession which Ted could do nothing about. Perhaps this move would actually do some good. 

The last bag had been bundled into the car, and Ted and Esther began to move down the driveway. No words had been exchanged between them. When the house had at last been obscured by the thick trees that ran along the lane and the car was on the main road, Ted looked back on it. He was sure about it now, he had loved Ralph. Had adored him. Finally, he could admit that, even if it was only to himself. But he couldn't dwell on what might have been. He couldn't go back. Most importantly, he couldn't allow his grief to overwhelm him. Ralph wouldn't want to see him like this, would he?

Ralph stayed hidden until the car was completely out of sight. He had feared that Ted would turn around before reaching the end of the lane, see a shape at the window and suspect burglars. But then, how could he be sure that Ted, or indeed anyone, could see him? Was this his fate; lonely in life, and lonely in death? Even the rats had scurried away from his ghostly form. Ralph feared that he didn't look human anymore. Was he just a wailing, tortured soul, doomed to walk these corridors forever? Ted wouldn't recognise him anymore, if he came back, or indeed if he was able to see him. Perhaps it was for the best.  
This is what I deserve, thought Ralph.  
He repeated this aloud, his voice sounding muffled, distant.  
"I deserve to rot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished another chapter...I'm hoping to work on this more regularly now!!


	5. Chapter 5

He had always been alone. Alone in life, and now in death. Yet, the loneliness overwhelmed him now. It smothered him and combating it was impossible. At least in the last few weeks, the sight of Ted occasionally strolling the grounds had been a comfort to him. Even though he hadn't revealed himself to Ted, his silent presence had remained Ralph of the small pleasures of humanity, and as Ralph watched from the upper window, he imagined himself walking alongside Ted. How strange, that, although hardly any time had passed since they had last walked together, as Ralph reflected on it now, the memory felt cold, distant. Thinking of Ted had started to hurt Ralph now. Because he was gone, and Ralph didn't understand why. Well, he understood perfectly; he knew that Ted could not live in the cottage legally now that the Mayhew family line had ended. He understood that Ted would not want to live somewhere with a sense of death hanging over it. He understood that Ted despised him for what he had done, and that it was best that Ralph had kept his ghostly figure hidden from the world. 

No. Stop. As far as the rest of the world knew, he was gone. Dead. Ralph couldn't blame Ted for not knowing that a part of his old employer was still out there. And although Ralph had stayed away from his own funeral, he could clearly see that Ted was in a deep state of mourning. He only wished he could be some comfort to Ted. After Ralph's own mother had died, and he was left alone, Ted and Esther had done their best to make sure that the new head of the Mayhew household was able to cope. And now, Ralph couldn’t return the favour. Ted had done so much for him over the years, and Ralph felt guilty, as it had all gone to waste now. No longer would the gardens be tended to. No one would pick the fruit from the apple trees planted in Ralph’s great-great grandfather’s time. The house would slowly fall into disrepair, become a breeding place for vermin. Did this mean that Ralph was vermin now? A solitary creature, less than human, a disgusting thing. Even if Ted could see him now, he would turn away, lower his eyes. And if he did, Ralph wouldn’t blame him. 

Ralph had been afraid of surviving. He had no idea that it would be possible for him to come back like this. But then, did this really count as survival? He was in limbo, purgatory, whatever you want to call it. Hell on earth. He was doomed to be forgotten, lost to time. As the Mayhew estate crumbled, and the locals moved away from the village, there would soon be no-one left to remember him. Even though he was the number one topic for village gossip, the nervous, withdrawn man who kept to himself. It was funny, in a strange way. Ralph had lived in this village his entire life, and yet, he didn’t really know anyone. He was sent to a private boarding school, far away, and so never got a chance to know the children his age who lived nearby. Not that his father would want him to associate with ‘commoners’. And when he grew up, and broke down, he didn’t have any friends who would visit him. The few friends he had made at university had abandoned him after his first suicide attempt, and he felt more pathetic and alone than ever. Only Ted’s visits to Ralph in hospital, though the memories were foggy, had given Ralph a spark of hope. Even if they hadn’t been able to talk much, just seeing Ted’s gentle, understanding face calmed Ralph down immensely. 

Thinking of Ted caused Ralph’s memories to open up; all in a flurry they were coming at him. It was as if he were sixteen again. 

_“Ted! Ted!”_  
“You’re home early from school, young sir.”  
Ralph looked down at the ground, kicking his smart shoes on the gravel. “I got pushed in the ditch, Ted. Don’t tell Father.” With that he burst into tears. “I can’t go back there, they say the most horrid things about me.”  
“Do you want to tell me what they said, young sir?” Ted said, full of compassion. Having young children of his own, Ted had learnt how to comfort someone.  
“Just…horrid things, Ted. Mean things. And they stole my notebook.” Ralph folded his arms.   
“If I tell your father, he can tell the headmaster and you can get your book back.”  
“No! I mean, please don’t, Ted. That won’t make them stop calling me horrid things. And Father will know how weak I’ve been. He’s always telling me that I can’t stand up for myself. I’m trying my best, Ted. I really am.” 

Ralph never did get his notebook back. And he was put in detention, writing lines as a punishment for bunking off school. The bullying didn’t stop. Ralph’s father called him weak and pathetic again, and the cycle went on. 

He needed a happier memory.

_“This is really lovely, Esther. Perfectly cooked!” Ralph was eating dinner with Ted and his wife; Esther, after learning that Ralph didn’t know how to cook, had insisted that he come ‘round at least twice a week for a proper home cooked meal. She said she couldn’t stand him eating that ‘microwavable muck’ all the time._  
“Well, Teddy actually cooked the vegetables, Mr Mayhew. He’s very good at that sort of thing, but he doesn’t like to take all the credit.”  
“Ah…well done, Ted! You mustn’t be so modest!”  
Ted busied himself with the gravy, avoiding eye contact with Ralph at all costs. There was a lull in the conversation, and Ralph grew very self-conscious. Luckily, Esther was able to liven up the dinner table again.   
“Mr Mayh-“  
“Please, call me Ralph,” Ralph butted in, then swore at himself internally for being so impolite. “Sorry.”  
Esther didn’t reply to this. “Ted and I are very proud at the moment; our oldest son, Matthew is getting married next year! You remember meeting him when he came to visit, don’t you? He’s a few years younger than you. And his fiancé is the most charming girl ever. They’ll be so happy together!”  
“Ah, well done Ted, Esther. That…that really is splendid news!”   
And then, out of the blue, Esther spoke: “Do you think you’ll marry again, Mr Mayhew? Wendy was a lovely girl. Love can be so cruel.”  
Ralph glanced over at Ted, then broke eye contact almost as quickly as he’d established it.   
“I really…don’t know. Ah, Ted, may you pass me the roast potatoes?” As Ted handed over the bowl, Ralph was careful to keep his hands as far away as possible from Ted’s. And so, the bowl slipped from his grasp, and potatoes rolled off the table and onto the floor.  
“Shit, sorry!” Ralph shouted, and clapped his hands over his mouth. “I mean…sorry…sorry, I am so bloody sorry. What must you think of me?”  
“It’s fine, sir,” mumbled Ted. “Just an accident, and the bowl’s still in one piece.” 

Recalling this memory, Ralph was still mortified. It was never mentioned again, but Esther would occasionally make comments about whether Ralph would marry, or how it was a shame that he didn’t have children. Ralph knew she didn’t mean anything by it, but it still hurt. And yet, he wondered if she knew. Did she notice the way he looked at Ted? Had Ted told her about him? All these things didn’t matter now. Ralph imagined Ted and his wife at his own funeral. Esther was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief as she held onto Ted’s arm. And Ted- would Ted cry? Ralph pictured him trying to collect himself as he walked to the front of the church and read the eulogy. Something about him being a kind man, loved by all. Bullshit. Ralph knew no-one had ever loved him, and no-one ever would. He was alone in this world now, and there was no point in holding onto the idea of love. After all, what had love ever done for him? He had poured out his heart to Ted, until he had nothing left to give, and had got nothing in return. No, there was no point anymore. 

Forget love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooo I actually wrote some more of this! And the plot's actually starting to go somewhere!

**Author's Note:**

> I must thank Cerys, who made a small comment saying "what if Ted and Ralph were ghosts?" I then developed this idea and came up with the plot for this. I have no idea how long this'll be as I've never written anything so long before - what an adventure!


End file.
